


For Good Luck

by mushembra



Series: Darla 'One-Shot' Cunningham, Sniper for Hire [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Combat, F/M, Minor Injuries, Near Death Experiences, Non-Graphic Violence, Trapped, luck, super mutant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6140930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushembra/pseuds/mushembra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darla Cunningham always has to be the one to run around the Commonwealth, helping damn near everyone, dragging MacCready right along behind her. But for however skilled they may be in combat, sometimes the numbers are against you, and they find themselves stuck in the situation that nearly claims their lives.<br/>And it would have, if Darla wasn't so god damn lucky</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Good Luck

**Author's Note:**

> So I took MacCready's hat in the game, because it looks darling on Darla, and because I love his hair. Seems a lot of people do that who romance Mac, but I decided to make a story that gives a look into why, in my Fallout-verse, MacCready gave it to her  
> Because I'm just that god damn detail oriented with my playthrough I suppose

They were fucked, triple F fucked. Fucking Super Mutants. That was the problem with Boston and their stupid high-rise buildings. They were prime nesting grounds for Super Mutants to hole up in, and good ol’ Darla had to just traipse around the damn place helping this person, helping that person, and they were always having run-ins he’d rather not have. Well, now they were cornered in a cramped broom closet, the narrow hallway filled with the sound of thundering laughter.

“Come out, come out, puny human! We can SMELL ya!”

“Fuck…”

Darla was fumbling with her trusty combat shotgun, tossing the spent magazine to the side to reload. She was bleeding pretty badly from where she got knocked in the head by a mutant who got _way_ too close for comfort wielding a heavy board, but if she was feeling any pain or ill effects, she wasn’t letting on. MacCready’s lungs burned from all the running. He needed to cut back on the cigs, but right now that’s just what he needed. His nerves were a frayed mess. He didn’t do good backed into a corner. It reminded him too much of the metro, too much of Lucy. 

“Boss, if ever there was a time for you to pull a plan out of your butt on a whim, now would be greeeeat.”

“Hush MacCready! I’m thinking!”

Every time they had gotten the upper hand during this whole scuffle, it seems like another wave of mutants crawled out of another dark corner. Darla’s plans kept falling through, and he could see the panic in her eyes. She was always good about keeping her cool in a firefight, but anyone with half a brain would be just as worried as they were about getting out of this with their hides intact. Darla glanced around the doorway, counting about three Super Mutants in the hallway, and probably more in the room they needed to get to. She really didn’t like those odds. She chewed at her lip, mind racing to weed out their options. None of them were ideal, but they couldn’t very well sit in this fucking closet until they were slaughtered.

“Ok, ok, I think I might have something, but uh...you’re not gonna like it.”

“Oh, great, that’s just what I wanted to hear.”

“Well I don’t hear you coming up with a damn idea Mr. Mercenary. Now…”

Darla unholstered her sidearm, handing it to MacCready, who gave her a look of questioning. She simply insisted, thrusting the thing into his chest.

“I’m going to take point. We’re going to do a hard push forward. You back me up and finish off what I miss. When we get into the next room, you take my back, and I’ll push us for the door. When we get outside, we fucking run for it. Got all that?”

Oh lovely, so a god damn suicide run. That was her oh so brilliant plan to get out of there. Sure, Darla’s shotgun was really reliable against damn near anything, and the pistol he was covering with was modified to all hell and one of the nastiest little guns out there, but these were Super Mutants. They were hardy, they didn’t go down easy, and they had numbers. Oh yeah, these odds were just great. But she had a point. MacCready didn’t have any better ideas. They were trapped, a grenade in their location was way out of the question, and there was only one way out with a big green blockade keeping them from freedom.

“Sure hope you have plenty of Stimpaks…”

Darla replied with a short little snort, a shaky breath escaping her lips. He really shouldn’t be grilling her like this, not right now. God knows, and MacCready could tell from her eyes, she already feels guilty enough for getting them stuck in this mess. If it were anyone other than Darla, they’d be dead already.

“On the count of three. One, two, three!”

Darla was quick to move, and MacCready hurried right on behind her. The Super Mutants roared with laughter, then anger when the shotgun blew off the head of the mutant leading the group. The hall was thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood, a flurry of bullets spraying and ricocheting off of the steel-plated walls. The duo stood firm, showing no hint of fear, refusing to back down from the assault. One down, then two, then there was just one fucker left in the way.

“Push! Push!”

A scream of distress sounded from behind Darla. MacCready took a hit, and she knew it. But they couldn’t back down. She just prayed that the injury wasn’t too severe. They absolutely had to get out of here. One more well placed bullet, and the last of the mutants went down. Thank fucking god. Now with just a little bit of luck, the way to the door was free, and they could get the hell out of here. Darla spared a quick glance behind her, MacCready clutching his left shoulder, face tense and dripping in sweat. Could be a whole hell lot worse, but it still needed tending to ASAP.

“Well unless you really wanna wait for more of our little friends to show up, I suggest we run!”

Good idea. Darla surged forward into the open reception room, MacCready hot on her heels and eager to get out. More bullets started whizzing passed them, but they both had the same thought in mind; fuck it. If they make a break for the door and keep running, they could duck into an alleyway and wait for the morons to give up their search. Super Mutants weren’t patient, and they weren’t all that bright. Well, it would have been a solid plan, if it weren’t for a certain sound that made their blood run ice cold.

“Shit. Suicider.”

Darla and MacCready stopped dead in their tracks, heads whipping around in search for the source of the sound. This was bad. This was really fucking bad. They had a suicidal mutant with a mini nuke on the charge, bullets flying everywhere, and nowhere to go. This was a death trap.

“Shoot! Just shoot! I’ll look for that explosive meat sack!”

Darla now reached for her .50 sniper rifle, but damn her hands were shaking so badly she wasn’t sure she could make a clean shot, and they couldn’t afford that. MacCready whipped himself around to face the mutants on the reception upper floor balcony, his hat tumbling to the floor in the process. He yanked at the trigger as fast as he could, ducking behind desks and keeping light on his feet to make himself a harder target. His boss owed him a fucking drink after this bullshit.

Darla took a look through the scope, that horrible sound off in the distance, but getting closer. Outside perhaps. Had to be. If she could just get a clear shot. God damn she was shaking, and listening to the sounds of MacCready struggling with her handgun in the backdrop wasn’t helping the situation any. She couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t lose him like this. Not him, too. There! The suicider was making a beeline for the front door, running at break-neck speed. Steady. Steady. She needed a clean shot. One shot. Off with the head. Save their skins. She pulled back on the trigger, and…

Click.

“FUCK! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!”

Darla had never reloaded the damn thing after the last time she’d used it. They were fucked. She didn’t know if she had any bullets left in her shotgun magazine, and she didn’t have the time to find the ammo for her rifle. No time, no options. All of that effort, all of that trying. Nothing to show for it. Then, something caught her eye. I was a long shot, a really long shot. There was no guarantee it would work, but it was the only thing she had that she could try. MacCready’s hat was laying on the ground a few feet away from her, and right there were two bullets, tucked into the band around it. More than likely, they were just some sort of accent piece to the hat, but this was the only chance that she had; that they had.

Darla took a dive for the hat, hands fumbling with the damn thing to pull out one of the two bullets. The beeping was getting louder, her heart was about ready to slam out of her chest. MacCready glanced back at her, and horror contorted his exhausted face.

“DARLA THOSE DAMN THINGS AREN’T LIVE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

The only thing she had left that she could try. Darla slid one of the bullets from the hat, and quickly loaded it into her rifle. It was one more quick movement before she had her scope locked on the mutant once more, who was a whole hell of a lot closer now. Too close for comfort with that thing strapped to it's hand. She took a shuddering breath in, holding it in her lungs as she willed herself to calm the shakes. This was it. Do or die. She didn’t want to die here. So many things left to do and left unsaid. She had to find Shaun. She had to lead the Commonwealth to a more peaceful life. She had to get MacCready back to Duncan, find out if that cure worked. She had so much left to say to him, things she thought she’d never feel or say. She wasn’t ready to die.

A shot rang out, loud and jarring, and Darla had never felt so relieved to watch a body fall to the ground in a spray of gore. It worked. It fucking worked. There was a roar of anger echoing behind her, and before she could bring herself back to the present, MacCready was there, stooping down to scoop up his hat before taking his boss’ hand and hauling ass out of there. They ran and they ran, adrenaline pushing them forward even with the sting in their legs begging them to stop. They couldn’t and wouldn’t stop. Not until they were in the clear. They had to get just far enough away.

After a good couple minutes of running the streets, MacCready pulled Darla into an alley before collapsing, heaving jagged breaths. Darla staggered up beside him and fell to her knees, giving herself a mere second before she was right back at doing what she did best; fretting over his well-being over her own. Of fucking course she would.

“Keep pressure on your shoulder. Give...give me a sec.”

“You’re crazy...you’re...fucking...crazy…”

MacCready was absolutely dumbstruck. The odds of them surviving were so not in their favor he wondered if maybe he was in fact dead, or dreaming, or in some sort of coma. Well, he would think so if he wasn’t in so much pain. Those bullets weren’t meant to be functional. He just thought it looked pretty damn cool, maybe a little intimidating, as a mercenary should look. He had been pretty sure those were spent shells, or at the very least duds by now. But that bullet kept them from being blown to hell and back. That was sheer fucking luck. Fools luck to be sure, but luck nonetheless.

“Here...ok, just let me see your arm.”

Darla gingerly took hold of MacCready’s left arm, injecting him with the Stimpak that would heal the wound and keep it from getting infected. Thankfully from the looks of it he just got grazed, so there was no need to worry about getting him to a doctor to get the bullet fished out before allowing his flesh to close.

“Alright, should be right as rain soon enough.”

“Thanks boss.”

Darla collapsed against the damp, grimy wall, her energy absolutely spent. Now that the adrenaline was fading away, her head started throbbing something fierce, and that’s when she remembered that good knock she took. She brought her hand to the wound, and found she just had a minor scrape to the scalp, and likely some bruising. She’d be fine. Fine. A laugh escaped her lips, damn near hysterical, and MacCready joined in with her, giving Darla a good playful punch to the leg.

“Sh--wow boss, you had me scared there for a second.”

“A second? I damn near shit myself more than a couple of times during that whole fight!”

“Yeah well, you sure know how to keep your cool then.”

Darla was a pro, that was for sure. When MacCready had first met the Sole Survivor, all he could think was great, another damn vault dweller who had no idea what she was doing. Worse still, she lived in the time before the war, with no fucking clue how this wasteland worked. That was part of why she had hired him in the first place. He’s now learned she’s very resourceful and very capable of surviving out here. She picked up pretty quick on how things worked, and was quicker still to put her old life behind her so that she wouldn’t get caught up in the brooding and let it be her downfall. Honestly, he wouldn’t trust anyone else at his back.

MacCready now played with the hat in his hands, a small smirk playing on his lips. After Lucy had passed and Duncan took ill, he thought his luck in this world had run out. He’d never had an abundance of it in the first place. He never had parents, had to take up as a mercenary, lost his farm, lost his wife. He figured it was only a matter of time before death finally caught up with him. Then he met Darla. She pulled him out of that pit he had resigned to fall in, and showed him a life that was actually worth living again. Yeah, the world fucking sucked, but people like her made it just a little bit better. With her, he felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a future out there after all, something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Something on your mind, Mac? Don’t think too hard, you might blow a few brain cells.”

MacCready snorted and shot Darla a playful glare, no real oomph behind it.

“It’s...well, it’s just...god…”

MacCready ran an unsure hand through his greasy hair, heaving a sigh. He was never very good with this sort of talk. Personal shit and feelings were pretty well hidden now-a-days, but that was one thing Darla could never let go. She had a way of drawing that shit out of you.

“I’ve never been a very lucky person. I swear my life has been nothing but a huge sh--one disaster after another. I came here hoping to find a way to cure Duncan, but I...I guess I never really thought I could really get the caps together or find the cure. I didn’t have a whole lot of hope. But then...you just had to budge your way in didn’t you?”

That rewarded him that brilliant white grin that made MacCready’s heart flutter. God damn the things this woman made him feel.

“I can be pretty persistent when I want to. I could just tell you needed help. You were someone who wasn’t used to finding it, and...I know how it feels to be helpless. I don’t want anyone to feel the way I’ve felt. It’s...dark, and lonely.”

“Yeah, it is…”

MacCready dug through the ammo pouch of his pack, pulling out two live .50 rounds, then he pulled out the remaining dud from his hat before inserting the two new bullets.

“With you around, I think my luck is finally changing, and maybe I really have a fighting chance to turn my life around, like I promised Duncan. It’s not just some idea anymore. It’s...it can be real.”

MacCready gave Darla a look of deep appreciation, and she glanced away bashfully, cheeks going pink, a nervous giggle escaping her lips. Why did she have to be so fucking adorable? Thirty-five years old, and she acts like either an exuberant child or an awkward teenager more than half the time. Her innocence was rare and precious, and he had to admit, it was nice getting to act young around her instead of having to put on the mature, intimidating merc face all the time.

“Here.”

MacCready plopped his hat on Darla’s head, his boss pulling it down over her frazzled blonde hair, although there was a question on her face.

“I thought you just hated it when I stole your hat.”

“Yeah well...I want you to have it. For good luck. Cause god knows we both need all the luck in the world.”

The two held eye contact for a moment, something so much beyond words being exchanged between them. In truth, they had saved each other. Neither of them could imagine a life without this partnership. They needed each other. Perhaps there was something so much more there, but for now, this arrangement was just fine. Darla hefted herself to her feet after a long moment of silence, offering a hand to MacCready to help him up.

“Come on...I think we both earned a big meal and a stiff drink.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”


End file.
